


Flower Power

by at_thezenith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Florist Castiel, M/M, Mechanic Dean, anyway, enjoy, flower wars, mildred is a little shit of a landlady and i love her, this was a fic i wrote a year ago and it's still cute so i'm uploading it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at_thezenith/pseuds/at_thezenith
Summary: Dean Winchester is not sweet.The only reason he’s going into this flower shop is his apartment smells weird, okay, and he doesn’t trust those weird air fresheners that supposedly smell like an ‘Open Window’, which is just confusing because it clearly smells like Mountain Breeze, but that’s another freshener all together and…





	Flower Power

**Author's Note:**

> right so we all know i'm an awful human being but my computer isn't letting me use word so i thought that the only way i could compensate was to upload this
> 
> and everyone loves flower aus alright

Dean Winchester is not sweet.

Don’t let the cutesy building he lives in confuse you, because he totally isn’t. Just because he took it upon himself to do up the outside of the house for his landlady, and _just because_ the trim is in periwinkle blue (there is a fucking difference, Sam) it doesn’t mean he’s sweet.

He works at a garage for fuck’s sake, and he’s always covered in oil and dirt up to the elbow where he’s had to go under a car for Bobby, because he doesn’t want his back to hurt. But don’t get it twisted; if Bobby is out of service then it means he’s gotta go overtime to make up for it, that’s all. Not that he wouldn’t mind extra pay, but Bobby is more experienced and he definitely doesn’t have a closer bond with him than he does with his own father.

Yeah. Definitely.

And the only reason he’s going into this flower shop is his apartment smells weird, okay, and he doesn’t trust those weird air fresheners that supposedly smell like an ‘Open Window’, which is just confusing because it _clearly_ smells like Mountain Breeze, but that’s another freshener all together and… yeah. Flowers were simpler, and he’s all about the simple life.

The girl who’s at the front desk is bubbly and sweet, kind of like a puppy. He learns from her badge her name is Becky; and she’s lovely, if a bit nosy.

“So, you got a special someone you’re giving these to?”

“No -”

“Oh, come on. No one buys _this_ many flowers unless you’re trying to impress someone.” She leans over the counter, grinning. “Spill. Please?” she adds.

“No, I swear. I’m just - trying to make the house smell nice,” he finishes under his breath.

She coos. “Aw, you’re cute. I should totally write this down for Damien!”

He forces a smile and she seems to get the hint, ringing up his purchases and putting the pots into a weird carrier-thing.

He waves to her as he goes out of the shop, because he’s polite, damn it.

He’s not sweet.

Shut up.

When he gets back to his building, he notices a moving van on the driveway; so help him _god_ if they’d touched his Baby.

Thankfully, she seems to be okay, so he carries on up the stairs into his apartment. It’s old, but clean and bright; much better than the craphole he’d crawled out from three years ago; the cupboards all have doors, the electricity and hot water work a hundred percent of the time, his bed has springs that aren’t broken, and he’s not living in fear of the ceiling coming down in the night.

And now he has some flowers to make the apartment look ni- to make it smell better.

He arranges them in crucial spots; by the fan, on the counter, and outside on his balcony, by his treasured deck chair, which is the one and only thing he took from his old place. On warm nights, he can sit up there and watch the world go by, a beer in his hand and an old track playing softly in the background. It makes him happy.

* * *

Thursday is his day off, and Dean is perfectly content on doing absolutely nothing for the day; if he felt like it, he _might_ wander down to the Roadhouse and chat to Ellen and Jo, maybe Ash if he wasn’t working on some crazy-genius thingy.

All that changes when he goes out onto the balcony.

He’s immediately hit with an overwhelming scent of flowers, and a quick glance to his left confirms his nose’s suspicions.

Apparently his new neighbour has a green thumb. And a yellow one. And a red. And every colour Dean can name.

It’s not just the balcony floor, oh no. This person has put them _everywhere_ ; on the railings in pots, around the shutters, even hanging from the goddamn _ceiling_ in those weird baskets. It’s making his little display look bad.

He grits his teeth. If this new person thought they were going to make him look pathetic in terms of flowery-ness, they are wrong.

This is _war_.

* * *

Trouble is, this person seems to have caught on to the flower war, and every time Dean comes home from the flower store, there are more on his neighbour’s balcony. By now they are spilling over the balcony, through the bars and dangling towards the ground.

This has been going on for three months, but Dean is not ready to admit defeat yet. He’s been trying to get Mildred to tell him who’s in the other apartment, but all she does is smile mischievously and tells him to knock on their door. It’s nothing useful, but he still gives her one of his bunches because he’s polite and she likes tulips. Lady tulips, to be precise.

He’s turned into a flower nerd. Great. He knew it was bad, but he didn’t realise _how_ bad until he told Jess that Sunsprite roses and Julia Child roses were _not_ the same and she should go with Eden roses for her wedding. Sam just rolled his eyes, but Jess seemed to be happy he’d found a ‘hobby’, even though it most definitely isn’t and he’s just trying to make his neighbour see that he’s going to win this war.

The problem with his neighbour is that they seem to be able to find very rare flowers, ones he’s had to google to figure out what they are. Sam’s been helping as much as he can in between cases, but he thinks this whole ‘war’ is silly and Dean should probably admit defeat. Which he is not going to do; besides, what ridiculously rare flower could the mystery neighbour _possibly_ find next?

A Franklin Tree, that’s what.

One of the rarest plants _in the world_ , and somehow his neighbour has managed to get a cutting. How is he supposed to compete with that?

He can’t, that’s how.

He paces his living room for ages, trying to dismiss his pride and just go see the person. It takes him half an hour, but finally he’s stood outside apartment 2B, and knocking on the door.

Honestly, he was expecting a little old lady - who else has that much time on their hands? - but the person who comes to the door is much worse.

The guy that’s leant against the doorway is hot. Really hot. Black hair and blue eyes and holy _shit_ his shirt’s open.

“Can I help you?”

It takes all manner of willpower to drag his eyes up to meet the man’s. “Uh, yeah. I’m next door, and I was wondering -”

“Where I got the cutting from, huh?” He’s grinning, the bastard, and it makes him look hotter, goddamnit.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “look, I’m willing to admit defeat; ain’t nothing in Kansas that can compete with a Franklin Tree, so there. You win Flower King of Lawrence, congratulations.”

The guy smiles, all crow’s feet and teeth. “Well I’ll let you in on a secret; I work at the flower store, and the Franklin? It’s fake.”

His mouth has definitely dropped open. “I wish I’d known that before trying to take you on. So you’ve seen me before, huh?”

“Yes, but I’m not very good in social situations, it’s why I tend to stay in the back room, and also I’m not particularly good at talking to attractive people.”

Well that’s caught him off guard. “Attractive as in…”

His neighbour rolls his eyes. “Yes, as in yourself. By the way, my name is Castiel, in case you were wondering who you were competing against.”

He holds out his hand and Castiel takes it. “Dean. Now that I know you’re a cheater, I take back your title and proclaim myself the Princess of Flowers.”

“Well hold on, I’m sure we can come to an agreement. How about if you come round here, say about seven, and bring a bouquet. We can compare and whoever’s is the best, wins the title.”

He’s nodding along before he even realises what Castiel has said. “Did you just ask me on a date in the smoothest way possible?”

Castiel flashes another smile. “I suppose I did.”

* * *

They both brought red roses.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated !
> 
> have a good day :)


End file.
